


Room 666

by spookyawards_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: An X-File Case, Humor, Investigations, Los Angeles (X-Files), Medium Length
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-05
Updated: 2003-01-05
Packaged: 2019-04-27 06:57:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14419995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyawards_archivist/pseuds/spookyawards_archivist
Summary: Skinner has an unusual experience in Room 666 of the Biltmore Hotel in Los Angeles. Fortunately, his secretary Kim is there to save the day.





	Room 666

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Spooky Awards](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Spooky_Awards), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [SpookyAwards' collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/spookyawards/profile).

 

Room 666

## Room 666

### by Scifinerdgrl

Title: Room 666  
Author: Scifinerdgrl  
Rating: PG  
Classification: TH (Adventure/Humor)  
Spoilers: None  
Keywords: Skinner, Kim, X-File  
Summary: Skinner has an unusual experience in Room 666 of the Biltmore Hotel in Los Angeles. Fortunately, his secretary Kim is there to save the day. 

Disclaimer: I've stayed in this room and it's exactly as I describe it. If you work for the Biltmore and you're offended, you have only yourself to blame! So don't sue me! Come to think of it, Fox owns the rights to these characters and to everything on this messageboard, so you can sue them if you don't like this story. And if you wrote "Amazon Women on the Moon," you are correct in thinking that your movie inspired this fic. It's one of my favorite movies of all time. 

Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner cursed under his breath and shoved the keycard into the lock of Room 666 for a third time. Damn! You'd think the Biltmore Hotel would have the best of everything, he thought. Indeed, it was his expectation of a smooth check-in and good night's sleep that had sustained him through a long day of flight delays, nauseating turbulence, and crying babies. His speech needed one more revision, and he'd hoped to do it on the plane. No such luck, and now he wouldn't have time tonight, either. Damn! He muttered after trying the keycard one more time. 

"Want me to call the desk?" Kim, his secretary, offered. Her sweet, tentative voice belied the strength of character that had made it possible for her to endure her job with the surly assistant director for nine years. She stood with one foot in the hallway and the other propping open the door to her room, the room next to his. 

"No, that's okay, Kim," he answered, shoving the card into the holder as if brute strength alone could solve this problem. 

Kim went to his side and grabbed the keycard from his hand. "Wait here," she ordered. "I'll get you another card." 

"Get two, Kim," he ordered as she rushed down the hall. "Just in case." 

"Men...," she sighed as she pushed the button. And that man in particular. How could they be so smart about some things and so stupid about others? 

All day she had stood by watching her boss make his own day worse and worse. It started when their cab driver asked in a thick African accent if Skinner could repeat his destination. They were running late already, thanks to yet another rant from Kersh about the latest X-File report, and Skinner barked at the unsuspecting cabbie then muttered, a little too loudly, about how foreigners should learn English. On the way to the airport Skinner was staring at his laptop and didn't notice the cab driver's deliberately circuitous route, but Kim noticed. And then, when they'd missed their connection and Skinner had scowled at the airline employee, Kim noticed that the first class seats that weren't availble for them were magically available for the smiling couple that came after them. On the plane, she squeezed herself to one side to make room for Skinner's long legs and beefy arms, but his frequent sighs and constant fidgeting told her it wasn't enough. They didn't usually speak on long flights, and this time she was grateful for his surly silence. She buried herself in her novel, reading about her heroine, Della Street, the loyal and long-suffering secretary to the equally difficult Perry Mason. Della Street was the true hero of these Erle Stanley Gardner novels, in Kim's estimation. She took clients to safehouses, gave Perry subtle indications in the courtroom, and kept the gruff man from losing his focus. In the cab from LAX she peered out the window, looking for locations mentioned in her novel, and by the time they'd arrived at the Biltmore the spirit of Della Street had suffused her with the strength to save Walter Skinner from himself. 

After laying the new key cards out on the registration desk, the clerk said, "You're his secretary? Just a minute..." Kim puzzled over the reason for the clerk's disappearance behind the inner office door, but when the woman returned with an envelope and shoved it across the counter, Kim understood. Comps, from one suffering underling to another. It happened all the time. 

"Thank you," she said as she took the two keycards and slipped them into her suit pocket. 

"Tell your boss I'm sorry about the room," the clerk said with a wink. "It really was the last one available." 

Back on the sixth floor, Kim found Skinner leaning against the wall, his jaw clenching and shifting under his dark eyes. She knew what this meant. Her first official duty here would be a letter to the manager. 

He grabbed a keycard from her and shoved it in the door, but the door didn't unlock. "Damnit!" Skinner shouted. 

Della, er, Kim, tried the second card, slowly inserting it then removing it, and they immediately heard the tell-tale click of the door unlocking. "Honestly," she said, grabbing his card and giving him hers. "You'd think the world was coming to an end, the way you have been carrying on." 

Only Kim could speak to him that way, and he knew from her bemused exasperation that he had indeed been over-reacting. Chided, he blushed and said, "I'll take you to dinner. Give me fifteen minutes." 

She shot him a skeptical glance and said, "Give me twenty." 

Kim unpacked with deliberate calmness as she heard Skinner banging around and cursing next door. When she was finished she flopped onto the bed and looked over her comps. Free breakfast, free dinner, free massage... Ahhhh, she sighed. There is _some_ justice in the world. 

After twenty minutes Kim knocked on the connecting door to Skinner's room. She waited a moment then knocked again a little louder. "A.D. Skinner? Are you ready for dinner?" She pressed an ear to the door, listening for any sounds from her boss. Hearing nothing, she pressed on the door, but it wouldn't give. She pulled the spare key from her pocket and went into the hallway. "A.D. Skinner? It's me," she said tentatively, her mouth close to the door. She knocked again then repeated, "A.D. Skinner?" 

She inserted the keycard and slowly pushed the door open. The room was dark, except for the light coming from the slit between the doors of the TV armoire. "Sir? A.D. Skinner?" 

Stepping carefully, she pushed the bathroom door open, but a creak worthy of a old B movie made her jump. Slowly, she snaked her arm around the doorjamb then quickly flipped the light switch. The bathroom fan came on with a rattle that sounded like an old man clearing his throat, but otherwise the bathroom seemed normal. Skinner's shaving kit sat on the counter, which was scarred by several burn marks left from cigarettes. Kim hmphed and thought, This was supposed to be a non-smoking floor. A drip from the bathtub faucet echoed through the tiny bathroom, and she let the door to swing to a creaky close. 

Back in the room, she heard a faint tapping, as if someone were rapping on glass. She flipped the light switch for the main room but the room remained dark except for the tiny streak of light from the TV that escaped between the armoire doors. Skinner's suitcase lay on the closer bed, and the far bed seemed a bit rumpled. She stooped to pick up the phone, which had fallen, along with Skinner's briefcase, onto the floor between the beds. 

Now spooked, Kim whispered, "Sir?" as she walked through the room. She tried to follow the tapping sound, but it stopped. Surely he wasn't on the outside trying to get back in? She pulled back the drapes, but saw only the airshaft and the glow of city lights over the building's roof. Enough light came in from the window for her to see holes in the bedspreads and pillowcases, and burn marks on the lamp shades. She stood in a large open area then realized the furniture that should have been there was gone. She clucked her tongue, remembering the clerk's "apology." They must save this room for special guests, she thought. She reached for the phone and tried dialing the front desk but there was no dial tone. The faint clank of tapping started again, this time accompanied by what sounded like Skinner's voice, as if from a great distance, saying, "Help me! Kim!!!! Help me!" 

She followed the sound and came to the TV armoire. When she opened the doors she saw her supervisor, clad only in his underwear, tapping vigorously on the inside of the TV screen. 

She stepped back, letting go of the armoire doors, which immediately clattered shut. 

"KIM!" she could hear through the doors. "Get me out of here!" 

I must be dreaming, she thought. I must have fallen asleep when I laid down to look at my comps... Skinner's voice broke through her thoughts. "Quick! I don't have much time!" 

She went to the armoire and opened the doors. Skinner was looking anxiously over his shoulder as his fists pounded on the glass. Behind him was a lush green forest, and Kim couldn't see what was scaring him. "What can I do?" she asked. "How did you get in there in the first place?" 

"The remote!" Skinner yelled. "It controls this... this... whatever this is." 

Kim picked up the remote from the bed and held it lightly in her hand. It looked like an ordinary remote control to her. "But how?" she asked her now diminuitive supervisor. 

At the sound of rustling leaves Skinner turned and backed up against the glass. Kim could see very vague movements in the foliage, reminding her of an X-File report she'd filed. Something about a tree-man in Florida... As she pondered the similarity to Mulder and Scully's description, she saw the rustling approach closer to her boss. "Quick!" he yelled. 

She pressed the ^ (next channel up) button, which made both Skinner and the forest disappear. 

The armoire doors clattered to a close, making Kim take a step backwards, remote in hand. The unmistakable moan of a bass clarinet seeped out of the armoire, carrying wtih it a misty sense of dread. Kim ran to the armoire and threw open the doors, but they slammed shut almost immediately. She opened the doors again, and again they swung shut. "Damn," she muttered. Holding them open, she shouted, "Sir? Sir? A.D. Skinner?" but all she heard in response was the soulful sound of the bass clarinet. 

She let go of one door and used her elbow to prop it open as she tapped on the tube. She saw a misty fores, but no Skinner. She pressed her face close to the set and called out, "Are you still in there, sir?" 

Suddenly the scene zoomed in, moving through the forest in bumpy imitation of the Blair Witch Project. The screen settled on a clearing where she saw a lone figure seated on a fallen log, silhouetted by the greenish glow of a full moon. She recognized her boss's muscular form instantly. "Hang on, Sir," she pleaded as she tapped on the glass. 

The door slammed shut when she turned to reach for the remote. "Damn," she whispered, feeling on the bed for the remote control. After glaring at the armoire doors for a long moment, she found within herself the resourcefulness that all secretaries, especially secretaries who were fans of Della Street, inevitably possessed. She kicked off her shoes, yanked her pantyhose off, and within minutes had hog-tied the doors open. 

Feeling emboldened by her latest success, Kim grabbed the remote and approached the TV. "A.D. Skinner?" she said, then turned the TV to the side. She looked at the wiring but saw nothing unusual. When she had righted the TV she saw her boss from the front now, still in his underwear, his hands working the keys of a bass clarinet and his mouth firmly planted on its mouthpiece. "Sir, what are you doing?" 

Skinner shrugged helplessly, his hands seeming to play the instrument on their own. When he tried to pull his mouth off the mouthpiece Kim heard an angry screech from unseen fiolins, followed by droplet-like random sounds rising into the treetops. 

Instinctively, Kim hit the "mute" button, killing all the sounds and freeing Skinner. He set the clarinet on the ground then ran toward Kim's point of view, shouting silently. Kim hit the closed caption button then read the words, "Kim! Get the hotel manager!" 

"The phone isn't working," Kim mouthed as she approached the set. 

"What?" the text box read as Skinner cupped his ear. 

After clicking the mute button, Kim repeated, "The phone isn't working." 

"Why am I not surprised," he said in disgust. "Have you figured out what's going on?" 

"Just what you said, that this seems to control it," she said, jiggling the remote. "But I don't see how..." She pointed it toward her face and squinted at it. 

"NO!" Skinner shouted. "Don't do that! That's how I got in here!" After seeing that she seemed safe, he continued with his story. "I remember now. I turned on the set, and the armoire doors kept closing... then all that came on TV was some weird science fiction show with spooky music. It was on every channel. Fox, FX, TNT, SciFi... I couldn't get rid of it!" 

Kim stood with her hands on her hips, her brow knit in thought. "What else did you notice?" she asked. 

Skinner stroked his chin as if consulting the ghost of a previous beard. "Only the words, The Truth is Out There." 

"Does that mean out _here_ or in there?" Kim pondered. 

"I don't think it means anything," he answered. "The only truth I know is that it's getting damned cold in here." For emphasis, he crossed his arms over his chest and stamped his feet. "Can't you do something?" 

Of course, Kim thought. As usual, expect the secretary to do the impossible. Every time he got himself into something he couldn't get out of, he called on her. But she hadn't failed him yet, and she wouldn't fail him now. She was his protector more often than anyone knew, despite his height, strength, training and gun, and she would do her duty. 

"Just a second," she said, turning her back on him. She pointed the remote at his suitcase, and as she'd hoped, it disappeared. 

"OW!" she heard from the TV. When she turned around she saw Skinner hopping on one foot and rubbing the other. "You could have warned me," he groaned. 

Kim sighed. "Sorry," she said automatically, although she wasn't. "Get dressed. I have an idea." As he got dressed she rummaged through his coat pocket and came up with his cell phone, hten went through the pre-programmed numbers until she came to Agent Doggett's. 

After the first ring she heard Doggett's voice saying, "John Doggett." 

"Agent Doggett, this is Kim, A.D. Skinner's secretary." From the corner of her eye she could see Skinner motioning for her not to say anything. She turned away from him and said, "Have you ever heard of someone getting stuck in a TV?" 

"Whaddaya mean, 'stuck?'" he asked. 

"I mean, could someone get into a TV and appear on the screen as if he were a character on a show...." 

Before she could add more, Doggett said, "Just a second." Kim could hear Doggett's muffled voice saying, "You gotta hear this." 

"This is Agent Reyes," Monica Reyes' voice said with noncommital curiosity. 

Kim repeated the question, then Reyes asked, "Why do you ask? Has something happened to A.D. Skinner?" 

Kim forced a laugh. "No, of course not! It's just that we were having dinner with another agent, and they told us this story..." 

"Sounds like a funny story," Reyes interrupted. "But I think it's either an urban legend or someone's pulling your leg." 

"Thanks," Kim said. "I was just curious. But do you think something like that _could_ happen? And if it did, how would you get the person out?" 

"If it did happen," Reyes said slowly. "And we were on the case?" 

"Yes," Kim said enthusiastically. "How would you handle the situation?" 

"Well," Reyes said, even more slowly. "If something like that did happen, I would start by looking for an electrical problem. TV signals are generated by electrical pulses that get transferred to pulses in the air or a cable and are then reconstructed by the TV. So if there were an electrical anomoly..." 

"Like a short?" Kim asked. 

"That's one kind, yes," Reyes answered. 

Kim clasped the phone under her chin then spun the TV around to see the back. She jiggled the cable and checked the power cord, then returned it to its original position. 

When she looked at the screen she saw Skinner lying on his side, his trousers around his ankles, rocking from side to side with his arms around his stomach. As he struggled to his feet he grumbled, "Dammit Kim! What are you doing to me here? If this is your idea of helping..." 

Kim hit the mute button then mouthed, "Get dressed." She turned her back to him and spoke into the phone. "Agent Reyes?" 

"Still here," Reyes answered. 

"What if it's not a short?" Kim asked. "Couldn't there be another cause?" 

"Could be," Reyes suggested. "If this were an X-File I'd also consider a cosmic cause, or even spiritual. Maybe some kind of punishment or reward, or maybe a reunion with a departed spirit. But frankly, Kim, I've never heard of anything _remotely_ like this." 

"Thanks, anyway," Kim said with audible disappointment. 

"You're welcome," Reyes said. "And if worse comes to worst, A.D. Skinner can always deliver his speech on closed-circuit TV," she added with barely concealed amusement. "Let me know how it goes." 

**CHAPTER TWO**

Kim ended her call to Agent Reyes, then turned to see Skinner wearing pin-striped trousers and a starched white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar. "Feeling better?" she asked. 

"Yes," he said sheepishly. 

Kim sat at the foot of the closer bed and put her hands on her knees. "Now, we need to get you out of there. I'm all out of ideas, and Agent Reyes wasn't much help." 

Skinner sighed. "There _must_ be a way out." 

She picked up the hotel's channel listing and glanced over the selections. "You say every channel had the same show?" Skinner nodded, then Kim continued, "Let's see what the on-screen channel guide says.." She clicked the numbers, then chuckled when she saw her boss. 

He was smaller now and he was squeezed into the top half of the screen. In the bottom half the channel listings scrolled upward, each channel showing the same thing: "To Be Announced." She sighed and leaned backward slightly, supporting herself with outstretched arms as she watched her supervisor's latest antics. 

Skinner shouted hoarsely, "Hello, this is Walter Skinner. And I'm here to tell you about the most amazing new product." As he spoke his arm yanked upward against his will. He was holding a blue plastic box with white letters that read "FBI." "Have you ever been out on a case and wished you had your flashlight? How about your lock pick? Doesn't it always seem like the one thing you need for the job is the one thing you left at home? Well, not anymore!" He set the case on the table, and the screen zoomed in as he opened it. 

"Now you can have everything you need, right at your fingertips, with the amazing Case Case!" He grabbed his wrist and seemed to be trying to pull himself away from the case, but he couldn't. His hand pulled items out one by one as his voice shouted its description. "You got your maglight, your lock pick, these snappy latext gloves, evidence bags, your handy-dandy notebook, and a whole lot more, all in this handy case, and all for one low price. That's right! Everything you need to go out and get the bad guys, right here in one place." 

The scene moved out, and Kim could see Skinner helplessly fighting his words and actions. "And... If you call within the next twenty minutes we'll throw in this portable lie detector abosolutely free! That's right! You get all this -- the case, the tools of your trade _AND_ your very own lie detector for only three low payments of 29.95." Skinner's half of the screen split in half, with pricing information showing on the left, and Skinner flailing about on the right. 

"But wait! There's more! The next fifty callers will receive, absolutely FREE, this hilarious video, The Forensic Follies, filmed live at Quantico!" 

Another voice interrupted and spoke in a very fast patter, "Filmed in Quantico, Mississippi. Not affiated with the FBI, U.S. Marine Corps, the C.I.A. or any shadow government agency. Shipping and handling extra." 

Kim chuckled, then yelled at the TV, "Hang onto that case, Sir! You might need it!" She clicked the ^ button on the remote. The screen went blank for a moment, and the next thing Kim saw was A.D. Skinner sitting on a couch in a very familiar setting. 

Skinner held his Case case tightly in his lap as two sweet-faced children looked up at him from either side. 

"Who are you?" Bobby Brady demanded. 

Skinner rolled his eyes then looked toward Kim. "Kim...?" he pleaded. 

Kim shrugged and sat waiting for the show to start. "At least you're in a safe place, and nobody's controlling your voice," she said. 

"Who'th Kim?" Cindy asked. 

"I don't see anyone there," Bobby added, squinting in Kim's direction. 

"You don't?" the cross A.D. asked. 

"Of courth not, thilly," Thindy thaid. 

Skinner removed his glasses then pinched the bridge of his nose. He shook his bowed head, sighed, then put his glasses back on. 

Bobby looked askance at the shiny-headed man. "Are you okay, Mister?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine," he barked, annoyed by the solicitous looks on the children's faces. 

"You don't look tho good," Cindy said seriously. 

"I told you, I'm fine!" he yelled. 

Bobby pouted then said, "Gee, mister. We were just trying to help." 

As Cindy and Bobby watched his face, waiting for an answer, they realized Skinner was sitting stock still, staring at space. They bent forward and looked at each other across his lap. Bobby raised a hand and waved it in front of Skinner's face, but Skinner continued staring. The two children jumped up and ran into the kitchen screaming, "ALICE!!!!" 

Kim's breath caught. What now? She looked down at her hands, which had been holding the remote. Although there was only a TV set in the room, the remote was set up to control both a TV and a VCR. Could she have accidentally have pressed "pause?" Or was something else happening? 

**CHAPTER THREE**

Kim pressed the "pause" button and Skinner blinked, then looked to his right and left, trying to see the children. "Kim?" he asked cautiously. "What just happened?" 

"I hit pause, sir. Sorry about that," she said. "But it gives me an idea... I'll be back in a minute." 

She turned toward the door to her room and heard him shout behind her, "No! Don't leave me here!" 

With an exasperated sigh she looked at him then said, "You're a federal agent and you're afraid of a couple of children?" 

A dark-haired woman wearing a worn apron approached him and said with concern, "Who are you talking to?" Then she wrinkled her brow and added, "And while we're at it who am I talking to?" 

"I'm a little lost," Skinner said. "Just trying to get home." 

"Gee, mister, is there anything we can do to help?" the woman asked, wiping her hands on her apron. 

After shooting Kim a pleading glance, Skinner turned to the anxious housekeeper and smiled awkwardly. "Just show me the door. I'll be fine." 

He was disappointed when all he could see from the front door was a brick wall. "Is there another exit?" he asked with some irritation. The housekeeper showed him to the sliding glass doors. Outside, he found a small yard covered in astroturf and a driveway that didn't go anywhere. "Damn," he muttered. 

"Hey," the housekeeper scolded. "Is that any way to talk?" 

"Kim!" Skinner shouted, turning a 360-degree circle. 

"Who is..." the housekeeper started to say, but before she could finish, Kim took pity on her boss and hit the ^ button. 

Skinner found himself standing in a clearing, surrounded by blue-gray trees under a glowing bluish moon. A cloud passed over the moon and the rustle of the wind in the trees louder, then became an ominous symphonic ode. He held out his arm and looked at his sleeve. Blue-gray. He was in a black-and-white movie. 

"Kim?" he called out tentatively. 

"Still here, sir," Kim answered. "Can you take care of yourself for a few minutes? I think I know how to get you out of there." 

"Sure," he said, checking his surroundings again. "But be quick. I don't like the looks of this..." 

"Oh, for Pete's sake," Kim chided. "You're a federal agent. You can take care of yourself for a few minutes." She turned toward the door again, then stopped when, as if on cue, the distant sounds of an angry mob echoed through the woods. After a brief but tense crescendo, Kim and Skinner could make out a few shouts of "He went that way," and "Come on, let's get him!" 

"Uh-oh," Kim whispered. 

"Kim--" Skinner started, but Kim, ever the pseudo-psychic secretary, had anticipated her boss's needs and had already hit the ^ button. 

This time, the screen blinked but remained on the same scene. 

"Kim?" Skinner asked, aware that something had happened but not sure exactly what. "Was that you?" 

"Yes, sir. You should be somewhere else, but it didn't work. Let me try again." She hit the ^ button again, and again the same image returned. After another try, she sighed and said, "This is what happened when you were out here, isn't it?" 

"Try again!" Skinner barked as the mob sounds grew closer. 

She dutifully hit the ^ button, then tried some numbers, but nothing changed. After each blink of the screen, Skinner seemed more and more agitated, and Kim was too. Kim rarely let herself be bothered by his moods, but she was starting to lose her patience now. "Dammit!" she yelled, punching the little buttons with her index finger. "Dammit... damn -- [punch] -- it!!" 

"Kim?!?!" Skinner whined. 

Kim threw the remote on the bed and put her hands on her hips. "I've done all I can for now. You're on your own." 

"KIM!!!" Skinner shouted as she stomped to the door linking his room to hers. 

What a baby, Kim thought as she yanked the door open. Serves him right! But despite her frustrations, she followed through on her plan to call the concierge. Skinner may be a cranky sourpuss and a big baby, but he was _her_ big baby and she wouldn't rest until she'd fixed this. 

In the meadow, Skinner listened carefully, unsuccessfully trying to gauge the mob's location, then thought "Of course! This is the fifties. They don't have stereo yet!" But he soon got a visual clue in the form of flickering torchlight coming from his left. He started running toward the right, and had made his way through several yards of forest when something caught his eye. Light from the torches glanced over something shiny, and as he approached it, he realized it was a window. A cottage window. A dark, cottage window. An unoccupied cottage... He wasn't one for breaking and entering, but under the circumstances he didn't feel he had a choice. He dashed to the cottage and pulled on the heavy iron handle. The door opened easily. Skinner jumped in and slammed the door behind himself. 

"Who's there?" a voice cried out. 

Skinner saw a stone hearth and fireplace at one end of the cottage, with a slight elderly man sitting on a stool nearby. Not sure what to say, he shuffled his feet and said nothing. 

The figure cocked his head. "Who are you?" the man's frail and gravelly voice asked. 

"I thought this house was empty. I'm sorry... But I'm being chased..." Skinner panted. 

The old man stared at the ceiling as he listened to Skinner's voice, then said, "Who is chasing you?" 

"I don't know, " Skinner panted. "I'm a stranger here..." 

"Ah," sighed the old man knowingly. "That is often enough. Here, let me have a look at you." He rose and held out his hand as he approached Skinner. 

As the old man's other hand grazed the surfaces of the chairs and table separating them, Skinner realized his host was blind and he stepped forward to meet him. Something about this seems familiar, he thought... 

One gnarled and wrinkly hand traced a path over Skinner's face, pausing at his glasses, then gliding over his shiny pate. "You have weak eyes?" he asked. Skinner nodded under his touch, then the old man said, "And you're bald... Are you a monk?" 

Skinner snorted. "No, hardly." 

"Well, no mind," the old man said, lowering his hand. "You are welcome to stay here, stranger." He patted the back of a rough-hewn chair. "Please. Join me for some soup." 

"Thanks, but I..." Skinner started to say, but was interrupted by Kim's voice. 

"Sir? I've called for help. It'll be here soon," she said cheerily. 

The old man cocked his head to one side and said, "Who was that? Is there a lady with you?" 

"You can hear her?" Skinner asked. 

"You'd be surprised what an old man can hear when he pays attention," he said enigmatically. "You should try it some time." 

Skinner blinked then studied the old man's impassive expression for a long moment. "Thanks," he said finally. "I think..." 

Suddenly they heard the sound of crashing glass. Skinner turned to see a fist-sized rock on the floor, surrounded by shards of window glass. "Uh oh," was all he could say. 

He peered carefully around the window frame, and saw dozens of men, torches at the rear of the mob silhouetting the men in front and casting an eerie blue glow on the trees behind the group. 

An angry voice shouted, "Hiding with a blind man? Come out of there, you coward!" Cheers from the mob followed this challenge, along with shouts of "Yeah!" and "Let's get him!" 

The old man sat placidly at the table, his unseeing eyes pointed toward the ceiling. And even after angry fists began pounding on the heavy door, he seemed unafraid. 

"Kim?" Skinner pleaded. 

Kim sighed. "If only TV weren't so violent..." 

"TV?" the old man asked. "What's that?" 

Skinner grinned in spite of himself. "Trust me. You don't want to know." 

Suddenly they heard the concerted efforts of several men whacking their clubs against the door, and the door creaked under the strain. "Mind if I move some furniture?" Skinner asked. The old man nodded, and Skinner started pushing the heaviest pieces against the door. Next, he pushed an armoire in front of the smashed window and positioned himself where he could view the crowd through the gap behind the armoire. 

The mob was getting louder, and their efforts against the door were growing more vigorous. "Kim?" Skinner called out. "Any ideas?" 

Kim held the remote lightly in her hand, waving it absent-mindedly as she pondered her options. "There must be something..." she said thoughtfully, mentally reviewing the remote's functions when an idea came to her. "Hang on, sir!," she squealed. "I have an idea!" 

She pressed the menu button on the remote, following the instructions until she found the feature that she hoped could save her boss. 

Skinner and the old man blinked out of existence for the time Kim was using the menu, and when they returned, Skinner was still looking out the window. 

But now, every time one of the mob raised his club to strike the door he disappeared, then reappeared an instant later, his arm lowered, looking around in confusion. 

After the men closest to the house had disappeared and reappeared, the men at the rear, most of whom carried torches that lit their faces in vivid relief. They stared in wonder, then in horror, as their comrades blinked out and back into the scene. 

"He's bewitched us!" one of the cried out. 

"He has magic powers!" another hollared as he turned toward the woods. 

And as most mobs do, this one took its cue from the first man to panic, and within minutes the clearing was empty. 

"Kim, you're a genius!" Skinner beamed. "What did you do?" 

Kim blushed and said simply, "I activated the V-chip." 

**CHAPTER FOUR**

From the next room they could hear the sound of a phone ringing. "What's that?" the old man asked, his sightless eyes squinting in confusion. 

"It's a door bell," Kim explained. "Sort of... Anyway, that'll be the concierge," Kim said excitedly. "I'll be right ba--" 

"Shhhh!" Skinner hissed. "Don't let on--" 

Kim laughed. "Don't worry. Even if I wanted to tell him, I'm not sure how I could." 

She dashed to her room and picked up the phone. "We have what you requested, Madam," the officious man said. "Would you like someone to bring it up now or later?" 

She glanced at the doorway as if merely thinking about her boss could conjure his wishes. And, as always, it did. "No, that's okay," she said. "I'll come and get it." 

Back in Room 666, Kim said, "I'm going to the front desk. Will you be alright there?" 

Skinner looked at the frail old man, then glanced around the cottage at the havoc his presence had caused there. "Yeah," he said. "I should clean up here..." 

"And join me for soup," the old man suggested. "It's been so long since I've had any company..." 

Skinner grinned. "Yes, I'll join you for soup. It's the least I could do." 

After Kim left, Skinner set to work, pushing the furniture back where it belonged, sweeping up the broken glass, and nailing a heavy tarp to the window frame. "I guess you aren't worried about the view," Skinner chuckled after he had pounded the last nail. 

The old man laughed heartily. "No, I'm not! And I can tell already there's less draft this way," he added, raising his soup spoon as if he were offering a toast. "It always pays to be kind to strangers. 

Kind to strangers? Whatever happened to "No good deed goes unpunished?" Skinner wondered. He sat down at his place, then took a loud slurp from his soup to give himself an excuse not to speak. 

The old man slurped loudly in response, then moved his hand around the table in search of something. When he'd found it, he raised a plate of bread and waved it in Skinner's direction. "Here, have some bread," he said. 

"Thank you," said Skinner, taking a hearty piece and tearing it with his teeth. He gnawed on the doughy mass, which tasted more real than he'd expected. 

"Those people who were chasing you? You don't have any idea why?" the old man asked. 

Skinner grunted a barely recognizable unh-huh and tore off another bite of bread. 

"Pity that," the old man said, a little too knowingly, then returned his attention to his soup. 

"Everything okay sir?" Kim's voice broke in. She was breathless, and carried a large paper shopping bag that said "The Big Bag." 

He swallowed then said, "Yes, Kim. I'm good." 

The old man interjected, "You're right. You are." 

Before Skinner could respond, Kim said hurriedly, "Hang on, sir. I think I have the answer. But the next few minutes might be rough." 

The old man nodded placidly, giving Kim his silent permission. She didn't know why, but the old man's nod gave her a sense of well-being, and she felt comfortable leaving her boss with him. This time Kim turned the TV around very carefully and slowly, so she could see the back. She took some cables from the bag and connected them to the TV, then she pulled a VCR from the bag, connected it to the TV, and plugged it in. 

She turned the TV around to the front and said, "I have a good feeling about this. Are you ready?" 

"Good luck, young man," the blind man said. "And remember what I said..." 

"Yes, I'm ready," Skinner answered, his brow wrinkled as he tried to figure out what the old man meant. 

Kim pressed the "video" button, and Skinner found himself floating weightlessly in front of a blue screen. 

"Almost there" Kim said nervously. Skinner nodded, then Kim counted down... "Three, two... ONE!" 

She pressed the "eject" button and the VCR emitted a strange-sounding whirr. The screen turned to gray-and-white snow, and Skinner was nowhere to be seen. Kim slumped her shoulders, then heard the whirr of the VCR stop. At the same time, a bright flash illuminated the room. She turned around to see Skinner, hanging motionless in the air above the bed. 

"What now?" Kim said in exasperation, then lowered the remote and hit the power button on the VCR. Its tiny lights blinked out, and Skinner landed with a thud and a slight bounce on the hotel mattress. 

"It worked!!!" she exclaimed, reaching for her boss's arm to help him sit up. "Are you okay?" 

He looked up in confusion, then glanced at the TV. "I think so," he said. "I was just dreaming." 

"If you say so," she said, not sure whether to be amused or annoyed. 

"I still owe you that dinner," Skinner said sheepishly. "You've been the best secretary an A.D. could want. I can be a real jerk sometimes but you always come through for me. Dinner's the least I can do." 

"I'm ready if you are," she said, blushing. Should she tell him about the comp meal she had earned for that same reason? Nah, she decided. A comp from him was better. 

As Kim walked to the door, Skinner went to the TV, aiming his index finger for the power button. On screen, the old blind man sat at his table, slurping his soup. "Thank you," Skinner whispered. "I'll never forget your kindness to a stranger." 

The old man smiled enigmatically, then leaned back in his chair as his image turned grainy then dissolved in a blizzard of gray snow. 

**THE END**   
  


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